IN DAYS OF THE BOOK PEDDLER

 

Scarlet winds breathed autumn through chilled night air, sipping on the lungs of children… A wafting scent of distant smoke and cedar filled the senses… And he blew in with the leaves on gossamer wings…

 

I remember the days of the book peddler… wandering… waltzing our streets… his books were paths to the China Sea or ancient Egypt… times of war… times of love… fears unspoken... places distant… dreamish… far off places I would never venture to see in my lifetime… I would never even venture to the ocean that I could hear if I stood still in the shadows at night.

 

Pennies a page to ride a magic carpet or fight in the Bolshevik Revolution… Oh… and she was there… threaded in the pages… like a sunrise, her hair glistened gold… Though her name changed in each book, I knew her voice… Jane Eyre, Anne Elliot, Tess Durbeyfield, or Cleopatra… I could recognize her anywhere from her shadowed grace… and my heart raced to be with her again…

 

I would be toiling… earth’s rich soil covering me like the finest robes… and I would hear his voice… the wind would echo it… “Come… Books for sale… Come explore the depths of the ocean in a submarine that flies under the waves! Or sail the sea with Captain Ahab! See a man become a monster before your eyes!  Flee to hell or fly to heaven!  Oh, come!  Books for sale!”

 

At his call, the village would wander… those who could not read would cling to those who knew the trick… what an enchantment to linger over letters and see worlds come to life… what bliss to leave behind the toil for a moment and escape into the sky… Those words were my feast, and I gorged myself on them…

 

It has been years now since they buried my bones. You’ll only find a cracked, isolated stone, overgrown with vines and dust… barely legible writing… nothing of significance… And though I never travelled more than 5 miles from my grave, I circled the globe through the magic of the book peddler… Listen… oh, listen, my friend… and hear his voice still calling in the autumn winds… “Come”…

 

Reviews

[Bhavya Kaushik]

AH! This was a very very powerful piece of writing...
I mean, how do you came with this one...The plot and the language was simply outstanding.
The way with which you've written this piece is simply beyond my comprehension.
The imagery in the opening section was very appealing.
Great great great work :)

[Emily B]

it was a siren song that beckoned me often, those treasured shelves in the library, I would drift away often on wings of liberty, I had the most amazing adventures

this was truly lovely!!!

[Stephanie]

Brilliance as always Craig! Books are so magical in the sense that they can take you anywhere you want to go, and become someone else for a while. Every story is a different adventure and something new to learn. You captured the essence of the feeling one gets when they're lost in a story... I know it all too well. I found myself getting lost in this story of stories. It was fantastic! There's a quote I found that I think you'll appreciate-

"Anyone who says they have only one life to live must not know how to read a book."
Don't know who said it, but there you go! This really is something I could go on forever about, but I won't! Amazing write from a brilliant mind :]

[SM Davis]

You know...I have to agree with Jessica M. I picked up another book last night as I absolutely love to read, and I thought...how long will people in our society still want for words? How much longer will the next book in the series be coveted?

I have to say that I am very impressed with this Craig. Still true to your fashion for love and peace, this is extraordinary. I am humbled by reading this piece. Truly humbled.

[Marie Anzalone]

"I said once that the world he charts was there long before him, and I still believe it. He is a great enough magician to tap our most common nightmares, daydreams and twilight fancies, but he never invented them either: he found them a place to live, a green alternative to each day's madness here in a poisoned world. We are raised to honor all the wrong explorers and discoverers - thieves planting flags, murderers carrying crosses. Let us at last praise the colonizers of dreams."
-Peter S. Beagle, from the Forward to "The Fellowship of the Ring"

We should indeed be grateful for the colonizers of dreams- those who write the words, those who teach us to appreciate them, and those who make the words available. What a beautiful write, Craig! We don;t pay nearly enough attention any more to the wonder a good story can open in the imagination of a child of any age!

[Jessica M.]

It's so sad to see what some writing has been diminished to. A fever for literature is definitely not as thoroughly cultivated these days as it should be. Very captiviating write.

[JohnL]

An imaginative piece if ever I read one - yet not a figment, but very, very real. I so enjoyed the picture you painted of the eagerly awaited advent of the 'knowledge-bearer' and in a quaint, almost fairytale, legend fashion, it sums up our own hunger for and love of - - Words.

[We are young.]

This is very good, even when you write stories you seem to have a way with words. The metaphors make me stop and think, this has a very mystical feel to it for me. Thanks for the read request I greatly enjoyed this XD

[Samuel Dickens]

I especially like the last part, conveying the message that the one who never traveled in real life did so through books. The line "sipping on the lungs of children" doesn't seem quite right, but then, I'm the world's worst at deciphering metaphors.

[Wildfleour]

And you write stories so well too.....do you realize how talented you are, brother?